


Rockets, Bikes, and Radio Stars

by viridianjester



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Gen, Jouto-chihou | Johto Region (Pokemon), Kogane City | Goldenrod City (Pokemon), Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24060991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridianjester/pseuds/viridianjester
Summary: A regular Goldenrod City civilian’s insight on Team Rocket’s invasion of the Radio Tower.





	Rockets, Bikes, and Radio Stars

Goldenrod City - the hub of the Johto region, home to the infamously difficult Gym Leader Whitney and the Goldenrod Department store, as well as the Game Corner. Brimming with people, pokémon, and excitement, yet… here I was, stuck working a nine to five at the local bike shop. Thanks to a certain trainer’s advertising, the shop owner (a kind, middle-aged man) was able to hire me on as part time help to repair broken or damaged bikes, which eventually became a full time job as business continued to climb. Not that I’m complaining - I’m exceedingly grateful he hired me, it’s just a little bittersweet living in a city where Pokemon trainers are always roaming in and out of after I failed at my own Pokemon journey.

Slowly, I came out of my train of thoughts and gave one last pull on the bike I was working on. I sighed and wiped some sweat away from my face with my grease-covered arm, glad that I was finally able to get that darn chain to fall back in place. Houndour barked cheerfully and rubbed up against my bare leg. I gave him a pat on the head before putting my tools back on my toolbelt. Thankfully, with how messy the work could get, I didn’t have a uniform so I was simply wearing jean shorts and an oversized T-shirt, pulling up my long hair in a ponytail so it wouldn’t get caught in anything.

“Marissa, I’m going out now,” the owner called from the front of the store. “Can you watch the front of the store for me? The customer should be back for his bike in a few minutes too.”

“Of course, be right out!” I called before grabbing a small hand towel and quickly wiping off the grease and sweat away from my arms and face. I then beckoned Houndour to follow before walking out of the back room and to the counter near the front of the store. Glancing out the two quaint windows at the front of the store, I confirmed that the owner was already outside and walking down the street. Discreetly pulling out my pokégear, I fiddled with it for a bit until I found my favorite radio show, _Buena’s Password_. Even though the owner said a customer would be in soon, there was nothing to do. I always turned it off as soon as the doorbell rang anyways, and I hadn’t been caught yet. 

As I listened to the day’s password, I noticed the faint sound of police sirens in the distance. No big deal, the sound of police cars in a large city isn’t exactly uncommon. I scribbled down the day’s password on a scrap piece of paper before switching the channel over to some music. After listening for about fifteen minutes or so, I grew a little uneasy. At this point Houndour had curled up at my feet and was taking a nap, but the police sirens hadn’t stopped. The sound kept growing and growing until you could hear them in every direction - I even glanced out the window a few times to see several race by. Then, they faded out until none were left. Perplexed, I looked down at my radio in an attempt to find the news. However, before I could switch the channel, the broadcast dissolved into a fit of frightful screams before being cut off altogether.

That… was beyond weird. The radio _never_ cut out - when broadcasts ended, the hosts always said goodbye, they didn’t start shouting incomprehensible jarble. Something was very, very wrong - did it have to do with all the police sirens earlier? 

Abruptly, the doors to the bike shop slammed open, the door chime ringing obnoxiously loud and breaking the ominous silence left in the absence of the radio. I looked up, startled, and Houndour woke up and started growling at my feet. My eyebrows raised in disbelief, standing before me was… was - 

Two scrawny teens in a black outfit, a red “R” proudly emblazoned on the front. In other words, it was two members of Team Rocket.

I hadn’t seen a Team Rocket member before, yet their uniform was still firmly carved into the minds of all Kanto and Johto residents after their reign of terror three years ago. Cautiously, I reached for the pokéballs on my belt - even if I didn’t actually _own_ the shop, I still respected the owner enough to attempt to defend it in his place. Even if I only had two badges, Team Rocket grunts were never really known for their individual strength - it was more so their ability in numbers - and with only two, I thought it would be alright to battle them if they decided to pick a fight. After all, what else could they be here for?

All this ran through my head in a matter of seconds before the slightly taller grunt marched towards me, his shorter and meeker partner falling in step behind him.

“You will not, under any circumstance, leave this shop or call out any pokémon, understand? We’re placing this city on lockdown, we have a big operation going - we’ll leave you alone if you comply,” he demanded. The other grunt nodded.

“Yeah, we got more to worry about than just some dumb bike shop - stay put miss and don’t go causin’ any trouble,” he added, tapping his foot on the cool, white tile. Internally, I was confused - weren’t Team Rocket supposed to be pokémon thieves? Or at least focused enough on gathering wealth to not have any qualms about robbing a small bike shop for all it’s worth? Did they really lose that much of their focus and direction after their big boss left them? Externally though, I moved my hand away from my pokéballs and nodded. 

“That’s fine - it’s not like I’m paid enough for this anyways. I work at a bike shop - it’s not my job to go around fighting crime or anything if it doesn’t directly relate to me,” I replied. It’s not like I could stop them anyways. If it really was a big operation, going in to fight against who knows how many grunts would result in a certain loss on my end. At least the bike shop would be safe, even if I did doubt the customer would come to pick up his bike today now that Team Rocket was in town. Less work for me, I suppose.

The gruffer grunt tilted his head affirmatively while the smaller one let out a small chuckle at my remark about my paycheck. “Glad you understand, we better not be seeing you later.” I hummed in agreement, and the grunts left the store, thankfully not damaging anything on the way out. After they left, Houndour and I walked over to the windows and drew the curtains closed. I glanced out the window for a second or two after the curtains were closed - simply a quick peak to satisfy my curiosity - and the normally quiet street was crawling with Rocket grunts, not a regular pedestrian in sight. 

Suddenly, a loud static sound came from behind me, and I jumped up in alarm. Houndour bolted up to the store counter and started barking at it, and I let out a sigh of relief after sneaking over and realizing that I had simply left my pokégear on and had forgotten about it after the broadcast had cut out.

“...Uh...um. Testing! Testing, 1, 2, 3. We are the amazing Team Rocket! After three years of preparation, we have risen again from the ashes! Giovanni! Can you hear? We did it! ...Where is our boss? Is he listening?” the radio blared. I went quiet for a minute only to repeat the same prompt over and over, the man giving the message only becoming more and more desperate with each repetition.Even if I didn’t agree with Team Rocket’s stance on pokémon treatment, in that moment - where they were desperately calling out to their boss to no avail - I had to pity them. Calling out endlessly in hopes of being recognized by someone you look up to without even a hint that person was even listening in the first place, well… that’s a cruel fate. One that I could, if not understand completely, at the very least empathize with. And in that moment, Team Rocket no longer felt like a distant night terror - instead, they felt _human_. Human, and so very, very lost.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago, but I think it’s still pretty decent, even if the writing style is a bit different than my current one. This is the first of many fics I’m cross-posting over from my ff.net account. Thanks for reading, and have a great week!


End file.
